


Grey Bird

by Lithosaurus



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awakening retelling, Established Relationship, F/M, Fix-It, Found Family, Multi, Post-Blight, Pregnancy, of a sort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2018-06-06 23:40:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6774949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lithosaurus/pseuds/Lithosaurus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lya probably should have died when Tamlen and her found the corrupted mirror.<br/>Zevran probably should have died when he took on a suicide mission to kill the Grey Wardens.<br/>Lya definitely should have died when she refused to play along with Morrigan and killed the Archdemon.<br/>But neither of them are dead and Lya isn't sure that it was good luck on her part.</p><p>-Inspired by the persistent thought that a fetus with a Grey Warden parent doesn't have to be carried by Morrigan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 35 weeks: Zevran

She saved his life accidentally when she plunged that sword into the Archdemon. By then, Lya saving his life was commonplace, it just usually didn’t happen when she was on the other side of a city.

Zevran struggled to keep himself upright as the arrow in his gut stung and the semi-circle of darkspawn closed in around him. He kept one hand tight against his side, trying not to jostle the arrow while keeping his blood from flowing out. He leveled his blade at the monsters and grit his teeth. They hissed and seethed, none drawing near but all trying to follow the general instinct to attack, like street dogs preying on an urchin.

An armored alpha pushed past the others and swung its axe off its shoulder. The others watched. If they all attacked at once, he would die but at least he would take some of them down with him. Whatever capacity for thought they had, they could recognize the likelihood of their own death and hung back. The alpha roared at him and took two lumbering steps forward when a distant shriek and a beam of light rose from Fort Drakon. The Darkspawn turned and stared as the beam intensified. Now would be the time to strike, drive a blade right into the alpha’s back and run but he found the light nearly as entrancing as the monsters. With one last sputter, the beam collapsed, leaving a cloud of debris falling away from the top of the tower.

And the darkspawn…began to retreat. They paused for a moment then ran, rushing for the city gates. It felt a bit underdramatic, as far as Zevran was concerned. The Archedemon was dead, he could think of no other explanation yet there were no great cries of joy. He stood alone at the gates as his opponents ran away and on the other side of the city, Lya was dead. She wouldn’t have let Alistair die for her and he had seen Riordan’s fall. If the Archedemon was dead, so was she.

The sense of dread that had been growing since that last night in Redcliffe collapsed and left him feeling empty. His legs began to fold under him. He caught himself against the wall behind him and slump against it with his hand steadying the arrow in his side. He could see Fort Drakon from this spot against the alley wall and he watched as the dust settled around the top of the tower. The pain in his side was rising as the rushing tide of battle faded. The light was dying and Lya was dead.

He woke up with a nose in his face. Iovru was whining and barking. When he opened his eyes the Mabari surged forward and licked his face. Zevran spluttered and caught the dog around the collar. He got relieved wuff for the movement. The elf caught his bearings and the dog pressed himself against his uninjured side. The city had fallen into a twilight made worse by the smoke of burning buildings and the fact that they were in the thrall of winter. He was worried that the cold in his limbs hadn’t woken him first. He tried to push himself up against the loyal, solid wall behind him and collapsed on the ground again.

Iovru whined at him again.

“I’ll be fine, you smelly monster.” The dog barked as if he was insulted. Or maybe Zevran was reading too much into the animal’s emotions. Iovru fidgeted then lifted his paw and held it straight in front of him. Zevran blinked at him for a moment before he recognized the gesture.

“Are you trying to tell me to _stay_?”

An affirmative bark.

“I’m pretty sure Ferelden’s dogs are smarter than its monarchs.” Iovru snorted and trotted off. Zevran straightened his back and winced as a jolt of pain lanced up his side. He pressed his hand against the clotted wound, using the pain to keep himself alert. Drifting off while possibly bleeding internally was not a good sign.

He heard the dog before he could see him. The animal barked urgently and eventually rounded the corner, Wynne in tow. The mage gasped and broke into a run when she saw him.

“Yes, I understand what you were trying to tell me.” She assured Iovru. “You’re a good dog.”

“Ah, come to offer me succor and comfort, my lady?” He grinned as she knelt beside him, tutting in her way.

“I’m here because the dog is better at avoiding arrows than you are, evidently.” The dog in question pressed against his legs. Indeed, while his fur was think with muck and dried Kadis, he wasn’t wounded. How he managed to survive so many battles without armor was beyond Zevran’s understanding.

Wynne worked slowly, relying more on her bag of bandages and poultices than her mana. Zevran could see the effort of the battle on her face. For a healer, the hard work was just beginning. He felt her pulling something into place internally and gritted his teeth. One worried, mothering lecture on arrows later and she helped him to his feet.

“What happened?” He wasn’t sure he actually wanted the answer to that question.

Wynne took a breath, paused, and then shook her head. “Riordan maimed the Archdemon and forced it to land on the top of Fort Drakon. We climbed the tower and killed it. Lya took the final blow, she wouldn’t let Alistair do it. But, Zevran-” He felt a wave of sharp grief well up in his chest. A ringing in his ears blocked out whatever else Wynne was saying. When Rinna had died, he had felt anger at her apparent betray stringer than his grief, when Talesin died he felt rage over his actual betrayal, but now…Now it was Alistair’s fault. He _was_ the senior Grey Warden. Why was Lya so insistent on protecting him?

“Zevran!” Wynne was yelling and stooped over him. He had ended up on his knees somehow. “Zevran, listen to me.” She placed her hands on his shoulders, holding him upright as much as trying to comfort him.

“Lya isn’t dead.”

“…what?”

“She’s still alive. Unconscious, but alive. We moved her to an undamaged part of the palace.”

He surged to his feet and practically fell into Wynne’s lap when he immediately lost his balance. “Take me there.”

“That was where I was headed.” She assured him. She kept a hand on his elbow as they crossed Denerim. Iovru stayed close to his other side and the two of them collaborated to make him stop and sit every few hundred yards. Even with their forced slow pace, they reached the palace before the light had completely died.

Wynne led him through the winding passages of the palace to a wing of guest quarters. He saw Leliana’s hair first. It stood out in the dimly lit room. Alistair’s hunched back was between him and the bed but he could see Lya’s legs stretched out over the quilt. The two humans turned when the door shut. Leliana moved toward him, arms outstretched as if she wanted to pull him into a hug but he pushed past her.

Her armor was gone and someone, probably Wynne, had dressed her in a too-large shirt. Without her helmet he could see her face. She seemed far too serene. There was a splatter of thick, dark, gunk across her face and the dark bars of her vallaslin stood out against her ashy pale skin but she looked at peace. There was no twisted death mask or discoloration. Lya was alive.

Zevran’s knees gave out again and he caught himself on the edge of the bed. Iovru whined and pressed his head under Zevran’s hand.

“There, er-” Alistair stood and awkwardly turned his helm over in his hands.

“We should return to the city.” Leliana rescued him. “I saw fires in several districts. They will need as much help as they can get.” She hooked her hand around his elbow and tugged it. Alistair resisted at first but followed her. Wynne took the seat he had vacated.

“Zevran,” she placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll stay with her.” He ignored her attempt to comfort him. “There will be more people that you can help in the city.” Wynne patted his arm before breaking contact. She ran a glowing hand up and down Lya’s torso one more time. Zevran refused to look at her. He was dangerously close to breaking and he didn’t want her to be present when that happened. He didn’t know what would happen but he refused to break in front of someone, especially someone who would try to help.

Iovru whined and put one of his massive, muddy paws on the quilt.

“I agree,” Zevran smiled.

Iovru pressed his shoulder into Zevran’s leg and rested his chin on his knee. There was no one in the room but the dog and Lya. Lya, who was alive but wouldn’t be for much longer, and a dog who wouldn’t judge him for ugly sobbing because he was selfish.

Zevran dropped his head into his hands as the tears started. He was selfish, so, so very selfish. He was crying for Lya, yes, crying because she would never see the sun again or tell another story or see the clan she loved so much. He was crying for Lya but he was mostly crying for himself because he was a selfish man. Lya was dying and he was crying because he didn’t want to lose someone else. Lya’s entire life was ending and he was upset about what he would lose. He was a selfish man who killed what he loved. His head drooped further until it rested on Lya’s leg. He felt like his entire world was collapsing around his ears and he just felt so empty.

This continued for an embarrassingly long time. Time seemed to blur as he wavered between waking and sleep. Zevran’s world was concentrated down to him and his selfish tears.

Until he realized a hand was running over his hair. Lightly and slowly, almost weakly but it was there and definitely not from the dog. Zevran lifted his head.

“Hey, bird-brain. I hoped I wouldn’t see you so soon.” He caught her hand and sat up. His vision blurred with blood loss. Now would be the time for a famous Zevran Arainai witty comeback but his mind still wasn’t fully awake and now he was processing that Lya was here talking to him.

“Zev, what’s wrong?” She sat up gingerly. There was a Mabari curled on her other side that was trapping part of her shirt under his elbow.

He pressed his eyes shut. This had to be a dream. Lya was alive, Lya was awake and speaking. He had fallen asleep while he should have been sitting vigil over her final moments. He was a selfish man who slept as his lover died.

“I fell asleep.” He choked out.

“I’m sorry?” She seemed confused. “What happened to you- no. I don’t want that question answered. Have you seen anyone here?”

“Wynne was here-”

“Wynne! Oh, Creators.”

“…yes, Wynne.” A thought occurred to him and suddenly. “Lya, where do you think we are?”

She shrugged. “Supposedly we’re supposed to go to the Beyond or to the Maker’s bosom, according to the schéma, but this looks like a the royal palace.”

He blinked and for a moment, he almost believed along with her. But Iovru had been perfectly fine and he could feel their heartbeats in his fingers.

“Lya, you’re alive.” Saying it out loud didn’t make it seem any more real, especially because she seemed so confused by the idea.

“But- the Archedemon. It died. I made sure. It died and…where’s Alistair!"”

“Alive, last I saw. He was here with Leliana.”

“Then how am I alive?”

“I cannot say.”

She dropped her gaze and chewed her lip. “Riordan’s dead,”

“I saw. The man certainly knew how to make an exit.”

“But Alistair and I are alive. Then how is the Archedemon dead?”

“Perhaps your information is incomplete.”

“Perhaps. But you’re alive.” She pressed a hand to his gut.

“And so are you.” He said it again, even if he didn’t quite believe it. She patted the bed next to her and scooted closer to Iovru. The mabari rolled over and rested his head on her thigh to accommodate the new arrangement. Zevran slid onto the bed and she laid back down with her head on his chest.

She was still turning the situation over in her head, he could tell.

“Did you really think we were dead?”

“Given the circumstances, I ‘assumed I’d wake up dead’.’”

“Your memory does you credit.”

“Shush, I’m still not quite convinced.” She pressed an ear to his chest over his heart. He rubbed circles on her shoulder blade and waited for her too speak again. He closed his eyes and tried to convince himself that the weight pressing on his chest was really her.

Time jumped forward and Wynne was back in the room speaking to Lya quietly.

He listened in, only vaguely aware of what they were speaking about. It was Wynne’s standard list of post-injury questions with a few additions.

“How’s he?” Lya moved her head slightly.

“He was in bad shape when Iovru found him but he’ll survive. As long as he doesn’t jostle that gut wound too badly, do you understand, young man?”

He’d been found out, Maker knew how. “And deny myself another chance at your tender ministrations? Never.”

“Your estimation of my abilities is flattering. Gut wounds are nothing to mess with. Now, if I may have a word with the Warden alone?”

Lya didn’t let go. “What about?”

“Just some personal questions, dear.” Wynne said. “I prefer to afford my patients privacy whenever I can.” Lya seemed to accept that. She moved Iovru’s head off her belly and sat up.

Getting back to his feet took more effort than sitting down. He ached all over and he had to push himself up with his arms rather than rely on the muscles in his gut. Iovru jerked awake when the bed jostled under him. The hound yawned, displaying his full set of impressive teeth, and followed him out of the room. Wynne shut the door behind them. Something in her expression made him exceptionally nervous.

Iovru, being a dog, didn’t catch onto her strange seriousness but Zevran didn’t survive his Crow training without a second sense for when things were wrong. Iovru walked purposefully down the hallway and barked at him when Zevran didn’t follow.

“It would be easier if you just knew how to speak Common.” Iovru wagged his knob of a tail and continued.

Zevran followed, opening occasional door as the mabari sniffed his way to the nearest exit. Iovru relieved himself on the corner of one of the buildings and returned to Zevran’s side, staring expectantly at the door. The trek back through the hallways of the palace felt far longer, though perhaps that was Zevran tiring.

As they approached Lya’s room, Wynne curtly shut the door behind her. Her lips were pursed and her back was straight. Lya must have rejected some sage wisdom of some sort.

“She asked to see you.” The healer smoothed her face out a bit when she noticed them. Zevran frowned. His second sense hadn’t failed him

He stepped past her a pushed open the door. Lya had her legs under the quilt with her knees drawn up and her forehead resting on them

“Lya?”

She jerked upright but pressed her head back down when she saw him. She looked panicked. His heart sank. Riordan had said a Warden must die, not when or how.

“Lya, talk to me, please.”

 “I know why I’m alive. I’m pregnant. Morrigan got what she wanted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iovru: 'Bear cub' or 'baby bear'


	2. 35 weeks: Lya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe 'Teen' is a bit low for this one. Explicit discussion of abortion and body horror.

The whole fight through Denerim and up the Fort Drakon tower seemed muted. There was a terrible, mind-dulling anticipation taking up her emotional capacity. It built and built until the Archdemon was collapsed on the roof of the tower. Alistair was talking, saying something about killing it but she could see the fear in his eyes. He didn’t want to die.

She didn’t want to die any more than him but in that moment the anticipation lifted. This is what had been coming since Tamlen found that cursed mirror. Alistair was barely a few years younger but, to her, he was still just a kid. She couldn't let him die now.

The greatsword was too heavy in her hands. The stone roofing was hard beneath her boots. Her lungs stung from the smoke. The Archedemon lifted its head to scream at her as she ran towards it and-

There was a burst of light.

-

Her arms and legs ached like they did after she had pushed herself just far enough. The pleasant ache, the warm weight of other bodies pressing on hers, and the soft bedding below her should have been comfortable but something felt off. Lya opened her eyes and saw a solid stone ceiling. Merrill had describe the Fade as a drifting, amorphous place that tried to imitate their world without following their rules; this looked like the inside of Arl Eamon’s estate.

There were stone walls and flooring with Fereldan wall hangings and several lamps but no windows. It certainly didn’t look like a place where Falon’din was supposed to guide the Elvhen to the Beyond. Or where the Elvhen were supposed to find their own way to the Beyond in his absence. Perhaps the Fade was reflecting Denerim? It was supposed to reflect the real world and she had been in the shem city before she died.

The warm weight against her side was from Iovru. Her heart ached when she noticed the loyal, oversized hound but there was golden haired head against her leg. For a moment she refused to believe it. She had fought and killed the Archedemon. She had died to keep the people she cared about safe. In what world would it be fair for Zevran to die regardless?

She softly ran her fingers down his hair, careful not to tangle them in his braid. She could just barely reach his head but sitting up seemed far too demanding at the moment.

Zevran shifted and then bolted upright.

She smiled at him. If they were dead, she might as well have a good attitude about it. “Hey, bird-brain. I hoped I wouldn’t see you so soon.” He snatched her hand and blinked silently at her. He didn’t seem to believe what he was seeing.

“Zev, what’s wrong?” She tried to sit up but Iovru was weighing down part of the oversized shirt she was wearing. Zevran squeezed his eyes shut and his mouth wavered like he was on the edge of tears. There were already tracks running down his face.

“I fell asleep.” He whispered.

“I’m sorry? What happened to you- no. I don’t want that question answered.” She might be able to accept that he was dead if that meant he was here but she didn’t want to have to know how he had died. “Have you seen anyone here?”

“Wynne was here-”

“Wynne! Oh, Creators.”

“…yes, Wynne. Lya, where do you think we are?” That was a good question. It didn’t look like what she had expected but it definitely didn’t match what Leliana described.

“Supposedly we’re supposed to go to the Beyond or to the Maker’s bosom but this looks like a shem building.”

 “Lya, you’re alive.” Now it was her turn to blink in confusion.

“But- the Archedemon. It died. I made sure. It died and…where’s Alistair?" If he had died in her place afterall-

“Alive, last I saw. He was here with Leliana.”

“Then how am I alive?”

“I cannot say.”

She drummed her fingers against her lips. "Riordan's dead?"

“I saw. The man certainly knew how to make an exit.”

“But Alistair and I are alive. Then how is the Archedemon dead?” What if it wasn’t dead? What if its soul had somehow skipped past the Grey Wardens and hidden in another of the darkspawn? What if there was another step that Riordan hadn’t shared?

“Perhaps your information is incomplete.” Zevran offered.

“Perhaps. But you’re alive.” One thing at a time. She ran her fingers along the blood staining his armor.

“And so are you.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. “Did you really think we were dead?”

“Given the circumstances, I ‘assumed I’d wake up dead’.’”

He smiled, despite the circumstances. “Your memory does you credit.”

“Shush, I’m still not quite convinced.”

He maneuvered himself to sit back next to her. She laid against his chest and his arm draped over his shoulder. His thumb traced patterns against her shoulder blade until he drifted back to sleep.

Zevran's heartbeat slowed and his breathing became slow and even.

Her head was still fuzzy. It didn't seem real. The last year had been spent trying to solve an overwhelming problem with little to no direction. Every few months something new would happen and she would expect herself to wake up and have imagined the whole thing. Tamlen's disappearance and her becoming a Grey Warden in the most jarring way, somehow convincing shems and dwarven nobility to pledge their support to her cause, being deemed important enough for an Antiva Crow to assassinate only to end up bonded to the same Crow; it all seemed too bizarre to be part of her life. 

But here she was with a man she loved asleep under her head. It was her life but how was it still her life? She should be dead, but wasn't. She poured over every word Riordan had spoken, Morrigan's proposal, and Alistair's patchy knowledge. Something didn't add up. Maybe Zevran was right, she was missing something. She turned the dilemma over in her head until there was a quiet knock on the door.

"Yes?"

Wynne stepped through the door. She looked exhausted. Her skin was ashy and her eyes were bagged but her smile was genuine when she saw Lya awake.

"Just to clarify, we're both alive, correct?" Lya whispered.

"Yes, dear. Best as I can tell, we're all live and well." A weight she hadn't noticed lifted from her shoulders.

"The whole world team?" 

"Every last one." Wynne assured her. "I just tracked down Sten. He had commandeered a platoon of soldiers whose captain was killed. He was putting out fires rather than checking in with the rest of us."

"Sounds like him."

"And how are you?"

"Not dead." Wynne gave her a disapproving look. Lya resigned herself to the full interrogation. When Wynne paused she jumped on the chance to speak.

“How’s he?" She pressed her head into Zevran's sternum.

“He was in bad shape when Iovru found him but he’ll survive. As long as he doesn’t jostle that gut wound too badly, do you understand young man?"

“And deny myself another chance at your tender ministrations? Never.” Zevran yawned.

“Your estimation of my abilities is flattering." Wynne huffed but she was smiling. "Gut wounds are nothing to trifle with. Now, if I may have a word with the Warden alone?”

That wasn't suspicious. "What about?”

“Just some personal questions, dear.” Wynne said. “I prefer to afford my patients privacy whenever I can.” True, but she had just been discussing her health with Zevran present a moment ago. Regardless, she pulled away from her bondmate (the word still seemed new and felt like it would always be new). He and Iovru left the room. Wynne shut the door behind them.

“Do you want me to lay back?”

“Not now, dear. Let’s get some of that off your face.” Wynne's comment made her far more aware of the tacky feeling of dried blood stuck to her skin. Wynne dropped a washrag in a basin of water located on the side table and carried it over as she tucked her legs under the quilt. Whoever had taken her armor and left her with this shirt was going to pay.

As insistent as Wynne had been on her being alone, she seemed awfully quiet now Zevran was out of the room. After a few minutes of getting her face scrubbed like she was eight again and back driving Ashalle mad, Lya got impatient.

“Tell me you didn’t kick Zev out just to spare my pride?”

“We need to talk.” Talk as in ‘I disapprove of your relationship even if no one asked’? Talk as in ‘I have another secret along the lines of being undead and possessed’? Talk as in ‘I know why you’re not dead’? Lya knew which one she wanted it to be.

“What do you want to talk about?” She pulled away from Wynne’s hands as the older woman finished wiping down her face. Wynne took her time returning the bowl to the table, sitting down, and lacing her fingers together in her lap.

“I made my inspection of you after the Archdemon’s death very thorough. I wanted to be sure that any anomalies or changes could be identified immediately, I found one. You are pregnant.”

“…what?”

“I’ll assumed that was rhetorical and that Zevran is the father.”

“Yes, obviously but- Wardens are supposed to be sterile. I mean, the Blight’s in our blood.”

“And I believe that. The Blight _is_ in your blood and it is powerful. But, for whatever reason,” She paused for a metaphor, “the seed has taken root and shows no signs of damage from the Taint.” Lya wrinkled her nose. Of course Wynne would say ‘seed’ and ‘taken root’. It made it sound like Zev climaxed with creep weed. Creators, that was going to be in her nightmares now.

Wynne continued, unaware of her new Fade-fuel. “Considering the circumstances, I am ready to help you get rid of it as soon-”

"Excuse me?"

“-as soon as you are ready.” Wynne finished.

“I’m not getting rid of it without even talking to Zevran!”

Wynne’s lips narrowed. “You are one of two Wardens in a country hours out of a Blight. A child is a massive responsibility which requires a great deal of support. Telling Zevran will only complicate things.”

“I don’t care! I’m not going to keep something like this from him and I’m not going to get rid…” she trailed off. A child was a huge responsibility. At home, there would be an entire clan to help with Hahrens, elders, and her cousins; an entire community of support with Vallaslin-decorated faces. She fiercely missed all of them.

She had always assumed that her vague future family with a vague bondmate and a vague number of children would start with Marethari’s stoic congratulations. Merrill would have cycled between exuberance and anxiety several times by now. Ashalle would beam happily and begin preparing everything far too early. Fenarel and Tamlen- Tamlen was gone. He wouldn’t be at home even if she could go back. And home wouldn’t have Zevran. Even if he decided to join the clan, home wouldn’t have Alistair or Shale or Morrigan-

Morrigan.

“Oh, Creators.” She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her hand over her mouth as her gorge rose.

“Lya! Is something wrong?” Wynne stood up fast enough to scrape the chair backwards.

“I just- let me think.”

“I understand.” The human patted her arm and walked out of the room.

Lya curled her knees up to her chest and tried not to panic. Wynne’s offer suddenly seemed far more appealing. A child with a connection to the Archdemon in its blood. The Old Gods soul had gone into her afterall, it just hadn't killed her.

Merely seeing the Archdemon in the Deep Roads had haunted her memories and now that _thing_ was inside her- She was hyperventilating and her thoughts raced. She had been pregnant when she killed it. There had been a life inside of her that had been replaced by that _thing._

It must have started after the last time they were in Denerim. After the Landsmeet they celebrated at Arl Eamon’s estate. With Loghain no longer fighting for power and Taliesin’s death, she finally felt like her future with Zevran was secure. Perhaps some hahrens would sniff at the lack of ceremony and more would outright disapprove of a flat-ear bondmate but she felt ready. Symbolic or not, that specific act was reserved for those who were bonded and ready for the responsibility of a child. Not that there weren’t other ‘acts’; Zevran was nothing if not creative and respectful when it came to sex.

That potential child was gone and had been replaced by that _thing_. That _thing_ was what called the Darkspawn to it and had her waking up in cold sweats. That _thing_ was what had caused so much pain and had destroyed so many lives. That _thing_ was what killed Tamlen.

_'Lya, Lethallan, please.'_

“Lya, talk to me, please.” She jerked out of the memory. Zevran was back and he had the same raw expression that she had seen when she left him at the Denerim gates. She pressed her head back down onto her knees. She couldn’t look at him, not if she wanted to keep herself together.

“I know why I’m alive.” She felt like someone else was talking with her mouth. “I’m pregnant. Morrigan got what she wanted.” She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t figure out her own emotions. If she tried to decipher his she would break apart. She felt her head coming apart at the seams, like wood splintering along the grain.

Nothing moved. It was as if time had stopped for everything but her racing thoughts. The anticipation before the fight burned at her. Her jaws felt frozen, her muscles were tense but wouldn’t move.

“Say something.” She slurred.

Claws clicked across the flagstone floor followed by the door closing and leather boots crossing the room. Iovru’s collar scraped on the stone as he curled up next to her. Zevran sat on the edge of the bed.

“Do you want to have a child with me?" His voice was strained.

The first syllable stuck on her tongue. “That’s not- Yes! Of course. I said I’d stay with you. I meant it. I wouldn’t have- I wouldn’t-” She lifted her head and managed to look him in the eye. “I never thought it could be possible with the Blight in my blood. But this isn’t our child. It’s that _thing_ growing inside-” The realization spread across his face as she spoke. He crushed her to his chest.

It was too tight and cloying, awkward with her arms around her knees but she felt like if he let go she would claw at her stomach until she bled herself clean. She wanted it gone but she wanted this chance she wouldn’t get again. Zevran’s heartbeat raced under her ear and when he spoke his voice rumbled in his chest.

“Morrigan is many things. Mi amor, including a survivor.” He reasoned. “She wouldn’t expose herself to something that would harm her, especially something that would risk her free will.”

“But the soul of an Old God? What does that even mean? It’s still the Archedemon, still the Tevinter Old God before that. It’s in- I was pregnant, Zev. I don’t even know if it would have survived but now it’s gone and this _thing-_ ” Her voice caught in her throat. Zevran loosened his grip, not to let her go but to hold her with a comfortable squeeze.

“This will take a moment but- have you ever see a miscarriage?”

“Yes,” and they were heartbreaking. The clan gathered to mourn, even if had just been a few missing cycles.

“What about a deliberate abortion? Follow me on his.”

“It happened twice in my clan.” Chandan’s baby had stopped moving a month after its first kick. Marethari had needed to induce labor early so the hunter wouldn’t be harmed. She heard all of this after the fact, of course. She had been far too young to fully understand it when it first happened but Ashalle had carefully explained when she and Merril had grown old enough.

The second time an abortion was necessary, she was old enough to fully understand. Tamlen, Variel, and her had taken skins into a shem fair to trade. Tamlen and her had snuck off to see one of the performers. Variel had gotten cornered by a group of shems as she was looking for them and… She could barely come out of her aravel for weeks and still shook whenever shems came across the clan. That was the only time Lya could remembered a pregnancy ending without a birth that the clan didn’t mourn.

“You probably aren’t nearly as acquainted with the process as I am,” Zevran speculated. “but take the experience of a whore’s son; at this point what’s in you is some thick blood with a bit of both of us in it. If you want to get rid of it, it would be a spot of cramping and a small mess. I do not know what to expect any more than you but I suspect that whatever is left of the Old God is nothing compared to the circumstances around it.” It didn’t quiet her thoughts completely but it was something.

“What about you?”

“I can’t say I’ve ever miscarried.”

“You know what I mean. What about you and _it_? Whatever it turns out to be?”

“I’m partially to a little girl with your eyes and-”

“Stoppit!” She butted her head against his chest. His little half-laugh in his chest sounded amplified so close together.

“Lya, I’ll forgive you for forgetting as it was in Antivan but I said I would stay with you until death. If you wish to get rid of it, I’ll help you every step of the way. If you want to keep it, I’ll be the parent that ours weren't. In the end, you’ll be the one with a crushed bladder so it's your choice. Either way, I’ll love you. Trust me on that.”

“Thank you, Zevran. I need time to think.” An understatement and a half. The creeping horror that something was alive inside her was just barely tamped down.

“Absolutely.” He let go of her and rearranged himself on the bed so that they could recline on the pillows. She couldn’t help but notice he winced as he leaned back.

“What happened to you?” She patted his side.

“I separated from the rest of the group- stupid, I know. Caught an arrow from a genlock and was circled.”

“How’d you get out?”

“They all miraculously retreated as a whole. It might have something to do with the light show from Fort Drakon about that time.”

“That worked out nicely.”

“Quite.” He said dryly.

“You are going to be alright, though?”

“Wynne gave her approval.”

“I worry about you and your self-sacrificing tendencies.”

“Amora, you do realize what you just tried to do, yes?” He snorted.

“Irrelevant.” She waved it off. Iovru yawned noisily below the bed, reminding both of them he was still there.

“Io, up.” Lya patted the quilt next to them and the mabari eagerly scrambled onto the bed. He snuffled up and down her body checking for injuries. Once content, he stretched out alongside her with this head on her chest. Zevran chuckled but didn’t comment.

For the first time in months, the looming dread of the Blight was gone. There were a dozen more things to worry about but the near paralyzing fear that used to stick in her throat when she thought about the Archedemon would never come back. Zevran was on one side of her with her head on his chest. On her other, Iovrur was pressed against her ribs with his jaw digging into her clavicle.

It was almost like being back in an aravel sharing body heat with Tamlen, Merrill, and Fenarel. Almost. Tamlen didn't drool.

The hazy sleepy safety lasted long enough for Lya to begin drifting off. A sharp, short knock came from the door followed by Alistair throwing it open.

“Thank the Maker. You’re alright.” He breathed. It seemed incongruent that such an innocent response would come from someone coated in darkspawn blood and ash. Lya could barely see the blue of his uniform under the grime and only patches of the polished silverite armor shone back the firelight.

“That wouldn’t have been nearly enough time for us to disengage.” Zevran yawned.

“What- oh. Ew.”

“Hmm, yes. Doors and soundproofing come with their own rules.”

Lya bit down on her smirk and nudged Zevran with her elbow. He could ask for privacy without teasing Alistair.

“Are you alright?” He seemed fine but that was no assurance that he wasn’t quietly bleeding.

“I’m fine,” He brushed her off. He stripped off his helmet so she could see his face clearly. “But I’m wondering more about you. The Archedemon should be dead but if you’re not…”

“That’s something we need to talk about.

Alistair frowned. The relief and happiness on his face vanished. He closed the door and took the chair where Zevran and Wynne had sat earlier.

“This isn’t going to be good, is it?”

Lya shook her head. She could barely face this herself and now she was telling Alistair?

“In Redcliffe, after Riordan told us how to kill the Archedemon, Morrigan found me.”

Alistair scowled outright. “This is about why she left, yes? Because she just abandoned-”

“You didn’t tell him?” Zevran interrupted.

“I barely told you.’

“Lya,” Alistair glanced between them. “what didn’t you tell me?” He sounded betrayed, not that Lya blamed him. She had made a decision that should have come down to the Grey Wardens without even discussing it with him or Riordan. Her choice could have killed all of them and she didn’t even do him the courtesy of explaining Morrigan’s scheme. The vindication alone would have made him happier than a halla in a lichen field.

“Morrigan claimed to have a way out of a Grey Warden sacrifice.”

“And you agreed? What sort of dark magic-”

“Let me finish!” She hissed. “Morrigan claimed she had a way to captured the Archedemon’s soul before it traveled to a new body- No, let me finish! She could catch the soul of the Archdemon but needed a vessel to do so.” Now came the hard part. “She needed to conceive a child with enough of the Taint to attract it.”

“She-” He stopped mid-word when he saw her glare.

“She needed to sleep with a Warden. Specifically, one who hadn’t been exposed to the Blight over-long.”

“…oh.”

“I said no.”

“Why?” He wasn’t angry, which surprised her.

“Why? Because I would never force anyone to have sex, let alone you, and certainly not you with _Morrigan.”_

“But to save our lives?”

“At the cost of giving Morrigan a child with an Old God’s soul, Alistair. She had just turned around a told me that she had an ulterior motive this entire time. When we killed Flemeth for her, it was because I legitimately thought she was trying to get away from her mother’s influence, that she was our friend. But the entire time she had been after the Old God’s soul _thing_ for Creators-know what reasons. I wasn’t going to just hand over something that powerful it her! Even if she hasn’t played us this entire time and legitimately wanted to save my life; Morrigan? With a child?”

Alistair winced and shrugged. “Fair enough. But why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m sorry. I thought it would be better if you didn’t know. If you didn’t get false hope or get left wondering ‘what if?’ It wouldn’t have changed anything; Morrigan had already left. But you’re right. I should have told you.” Her friend chewed his lip as he turned the new information over in his head.

“I understand.” He said quietly. “But, then how are you still…alive.” Alistair’s eyes widened and snapped to focus on Zevran. “Maker’s breath.” He looked horrified and disgusted.

“Grey Warden sterility didn’t quiet live up to its reputation.” Zevran shrugged. Iovru, being a dog, didn’t pick up on the delicate situation and flopped himself over their legs so Alistair could pet his head. The other Warden absently ran his fingers through the gunk-clogged fur behind Iovru’s ears.

“Wynne confirmed it?”

“Yes. Found out before I did.” Lya said.

“Do you know how far along you are?”

“No more than two weeks.”

He seemed skeptical. “How would- never mind. Did Wynne offer to help get rid of it?”

“Yes.”

Alistair cocked his head like he was expecting more. Zevran found her hand with his.

“And I don’t know if I will.”

“Are you insane! You don’t even know-”

“Do you really think I haven’t thought that!” Lya shouted. She was going to cry if she had to do this with Alistair now. Zevran’s little speech had just barely curbed the panic that had set in when she made the same connections. If she had to hear her doubts yelled back at her by Alistair, she would implode or do something impulsive. The driving force in her life since Ostagar had been to kill the Archedemon. Now, it was in her. She held its life in a place closer than her hands but so very far away.

“Alistair, I have to think! Give me some time to think.”

Alistair shifted in his seat and huffed. This wasn’t him biting his tongue because he disagreed but would still support her decision, this was him trying to figure out how to tell her she was wrong.

“A word, Warden?” Zevran asked coldly. He stood and walked out the door, leaving no room for argument. Alistair followed with a backward glance. Hopefully, Zevran wouldn’t kill him, he was prone to killing.

Lya threw herself backward onto the mattress. Her mind raced as she tried to remember every detail she had learned about the Old Gods, Archedemon, and Blight. For the hundredth time, she wished that Duncan had survived Ostagar. She doubted he would have any more experience with this situation but he had seemed so confident when she met him. Even if he didn’t have any answers, he would be able to take authority. She was no Keeper or Hahren, she could barely lead a scouting party before all this happened. The desire to just let someone else take care of things was tempting.

But she couldn’t. She was part of the last few Grey Wardens in Ferelden. This country and its people needed her. That meant deciding what to do with this  _thing_ inside of her.

In the end, there were two possible scenarios. One; she was carrying her and Zevran’s child who had accidentally saved her life, or two; she _had_ been carrying her and Zevran’s child but now carried the soul of an Old God. Either she kept what was probably her only chance at a child of her own blood or she played it safe and got rid of it. Playing it safe would have saved Tamlen’s life, playing it safe would have meant Cailan waiting for reinforcements, playing it safe would have had Isolde give up her child to the Circle- playing it safe would have meant slitting the throat of the assassin at her feet.

Morrigan’s words played through her had. She had been prepared for this. She had quite effectively freed herself from Flemeth's control only months ago, even if that now left a bitter taste in Lya’s mouth. Zevran was right; Morrigan was a survivor and she wouldn’t risk her newfound autonomy. Lya had once trusted her like a clanmate, perhaps not all of Morrigan’s words were lies. Perhaps she should trust her friend again. And if not; she had time to change her mind.

Muffled voices were leaking through the door. It didn’t sound like Zevran. Iovru was snuggling especially close to her. He wasn’t usually this needy but he must’ve been picking up on the anxious air in the room.

“You’re a good boy, little bear.” She assured him and ran her fingers through his fur. His stubby tail wiggled. Lya kicked her legs over the edge of the bed. She was a bit stiff and unsteady but that wouldn’t stop her.

Alistair and Zevran jumped when she threw open the door. Zev was uncomfortably close to the larger man and wore his deadliest smile. Alistair was holding his ground surprisingly well.

“Alistair,” She said calmly.

“Wh-”

“I’m assuming the city hasn’t fully recovered from the horde of ‘spawn that just attacked it.”

“Uh, no-”

“Then we have a job to do. Where is my armor?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently 35,000 feet in the air flying out of the country for a while. I'm going to have limited access to internet and no laptop. As such, this is only about half of the chapter. Full edits and the rest will be up near the end of the month. Sorry for the delay.
> 
> edit: 9/22/16: now in its intended single chapter format. the next chapter is scheduled to be published in november, sorry for the wait.


	3. 33 weeks: Lya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three things:  
> 1) I haven't forgotten about this at all, simply struggled with the chapter. I won't make promises about the next update but it will come  
> B) I altered the timeline a bit because Anders' turn around time from Grey Warden to Kirkwall's sewer hero seems to bend time in canon  
> III) Happy 2017, here's hoping it's better  
> 

It was a beautiful morning and it left a bad taste in her mouth.

Snow flurries had bit at them during the first day of the ride but today was clear. The melting snow and ice along the side of the road was still clean enough to paint the forest white and the sun reaching through the trees made it shine. Every few steps another branch would shake off the snow that had weighed it down over the last months and spring back to its true curve. The first of the migratory birds were beginning to return and sang in the trees.

Lya loved the weeks before the true sogginess of spring set in. It felt like the forest was waking up after a long sleep, ready to resume life. Considering what had happened this winter, the feeling was especially apt. Even if the Darkspawn horde had threatened the harsh, clear beauty of the woods just two weeks ago, the world spun on. Life found a way.

Surrounded by the smell of pine and fir, riding with Zevran on one side and Iovru trotting along on the other, the threat of the Blight gone, and anew task at hand she should have felt at peace. Should have, but couldn’t. At the moment, in the cold beauty of the late winter woods, Lya was one change of the wind away from puking.

There had been a little thrill that shuttered through her gut when she first woke up in Denerim with a knot in her stomach. It was real. This was happening. Whether she kept it or not; she was pregnant. The deadline to decide was two weeks from now. Wynne had been very thorough when she outlined the multiple ways that Lya could abort the pregnancy with or without magic but she had made it clear that those methods had time limits if they were to work properly.

“There’s Conn’s Forde.” Ser Mhairi interrupted her thoughts to point out the landmark through a gap in the trees. “It’s the last camping site for foot traffic on the way to Amaranthine. We should be at Vigil’s Keep by midafternoon. We can stop at the inn, if you want, Warden Commander.”

“I’d prefer to reach the keep as soon as possible.”

“Of course, ser, I meant to say-” the shem stumbled. “You seemed a bit under the weather. Conn’s Inn would be a nice place to warm up.” She heard Zev laugh under his breath.

“I’ll be fine. Just a little ‘under the weather’.”

“Are you certain, my warden?” Zevran spoke up. “You may feel better after a short rest. Or we could find you something to eat? Fereldan cuisine is…unique. A nice plate of fermented cabbage, perhaps?” Lya glared at him. He smiled innocently. Her stomach was already fussing at the memory of the sauerkraut she had tried to eat before leaving Denerim.

Mhairi watched them with a furrowed brow. Lya had the growing suspicion that she wasn’t meeting the shemlen’s expectations. It wasn’t as if she treated Lya or Zevran badly. Indeed, her behavior was a far cry from the dismissal and disgust she’d seen in the cities but Mhairi seemed as if she had an idea of what Lya should be like before they met her. It made her anxious.

Iovru let out a soft bark. She looked down to see he was no longer ambling along with his tongue out. The mabari’s ears were pricked forward and his nose was in the air. A quick stretch of her senses confirmed there were no Darkspawn nearby but Lya hadn’t survived this long without knowing when something was watching her from the woods. She reigned in her horse and scanned the woods around them. The trees grew right up to the road, limiting their visibility and hemming them in if a fight broke out.

“Warden Commander?” Mhairi called out to her. Lya didn’t answer. She caught a flash of movement too large to be a bird in the woods ahead of them and slung her bow off her back. There was a crunch of snow and whatever had been watching them retreated from the road.

“What was that?” Zevran pulled his horse close to hers and kept one hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Not ‘spawn. But that wasn’t a wary deer, either.” She kept her eyes on the spot where the watcher had been.

“Are you certain? The Wending Woods are a strange place.” Mhairi said.

“I’m certain.” Lya kneed her horse back into motion. Usually she would have deferred to the local but a local shem who had spent her life in cities and wouldn’t know a fox from a wolf? She’ll trust her own eyes.

They did end up stopping at the inn, but only for a moment. They watered the horses and left them to rest as they spoke with the innkeep. The weathered man seemed happy for the company.

“ ‘s been quiet.” He confessed. “My girls went to Denerim when the Bann called his army and travel’s been slow. Unusually slow.”

“Even with the Blight?” Lya asked.

He nodded. “Things were business as usually ‘til a few weeks ago. Merchants have been claiming there’s something in the woods. Refugees are trickling north but the trade caravans that should be coming through now have stopped. Things’ll only get worse when the snow melt hits. And the rains are coming in soon, I can feel it.” He jerked his head to the north.

She probably paid the man too much just for watering their horses and a chance to warm up but if the road was that empty he would need the money.

True to its name, the inn was situated at a ford but it crossed at a wide spot that was hardly ankle deep on the horses. The only thing remarkable about it was persuading Iovru to scramble onto the back of her horse so his paws wouldn’t get wet. They followed the river downstream as it flowed towards the Amaranthine Ocean, widening and deepening as it changed from a rushing stream it a broad, icy river.

Their first glimpse of Vigil’s Keep came from the crest of a hill. Lya could just barely see the top of a tower and wouldn’t have noticed it at all if Mhairi hadn’t pointed it out. What she did notice was the dark clouds rolling in from the north. The innkeeper was right.

The last miles to the keep were taken at a trot and they still were caught by the icy rain before reaching the safety of its stone walls.  Even after living in Denerim for a month before and during the Landsmeet, Vigil’s Keep seemed foreign. It almost seemed to have grown organically with layers of walls and buildings insulating the central tower with its uneven spires. The steep, stoney hill that rose behind it made it seem like another craggy peak.

“That's strange.” Mhairi said. “There’s no guards on the battlements.”

Lya squinted through the rain. There wasn’t a soul in sight.

“Even with a skeleton staff…something’s off.” Mhairi pushed her horse into a gallop.

As they drew close, the smell of smoke filled the air. A soldier bolted from between the buildings directly outside the outer walls. A knot of Darkspawn chased behind him. Mhairi cursed and swung her shield off her shoulder. Zevran didn’t bother to unsheathe his daggers, just let Lya pick off the gunlocks with well-placed arrows as they drew near.

“What happened?” She demanded as the panicked man stopped beside them.

“The Darkspawn ambushed the keep!” He claimed. “They were on us before we could even sound the alarm!”

“Darkspawn staging an ambush? That’s impossible.” Mhairi insisted.

“Not without control.” Lya corrected. But they were there. Now that she was looking for it, she could sense the Darkspawn in the keep. A cold gust of wind came from the north-east, bringing another sheet of rain and the Blight-rich scent of rot that came with the Darkspawn. Her horse shied back from the smell and nickered nervously.

“We should leave the horses.” Zevran suggested. She noticed that his stayed still under his firm grip. “A spooked horse in an overrun keep would not be pleasant.”

She gritted her teeth but nodded. Not for the first time, she missed the grace and intelligence of halla. They dismounted and left the horses with the equally spooked soldier. From this angle, the keep seemed far less welcoming.

Vigil’s Keep must have once been a secure, busy place. The outbuildings and walls were well kept, the courtyards held training dummies, a partial forge, and a statue of Andraste. The fresh thatch and candle-lit windows gave the appearance of a living castle. But over that…blood, both Darkspawn and human marred the stone and the sound of battle rang through the air. A soldier, cornered by two hurlocks cried out for help and they plunged in.

The next moments narrowed down to the over-stimulating rush of battle. Arrows notched, drawn, and aimed found their targets as Zevran and Iovru slid back into the balance they had developed over the last year. Mhairi proved herself a good recruit. The knight knew how to kill darkspawn with experienced, efficient motions.

Their help turned the tide for the scattered soldiers in the outer courtyards. A makeshift infirmary hidden behind a choke point held a half-dozen wounded soldiers who looked at them as if their prayers had been answered. The man field promoted to commanding officer repeated the story of a Darkspawn ambush and then pointed them to the main tower, saying there were more darkspaw, survivors, and wardens inside.

Lya’s thoughts raced as they charged across the open, bloodstained courtyard and up the steps to the siege doors. They were closed tight. Then how did the ‘spawn get in? And how were they going to get in? The heavy wooden doors lacked handholds or any mechanism to open them from the outside. Perhaps the stone walls would offer-

The concussive blast of a fireball knocked her off her feet.

Stupid! The place was swarming with ‘spawn and she didn’t check to see if they were behind a corner? Her ears rang and white spots clouded her eyes but she had to get to her feet. An emissary had thrown that fireball and they were open targets. Her left shoulder had taken the brunt of her fall but the pain spreading over her back wasn’t That of broken bones. She tightened her grip on her bow and began to prop herself up with her right elbow.

A hand grabbed her and she flinched back before she could connect it with the hazy image in front of her. Zevran’s face came into focus. He was shouting something and had his hand cradling her neck. But that was wrong. The emissary that threw that fireball and any others that were with it were still alive. He should be fighting them, not worrying over her.

She felt, rather than saw, three Darkspawn split away from Mhairi for easier prey. She jerked forward but her muscles wouldn’t move fast enough. Zevran was focused on her as a Hurlock lifted its blade, swinging for his neck.

It crashed to the ground next to them with Iovru’s teeth buried in its arm. Zevran snapped to action. He ducked under the second hurlock’s swing and decapitated it with a swift stroke. He rushed the last Hurlock but not before it brought its cudgel down on Iovru’s hind leg. The hound yelp and let go of the Darkspawn below him as the force of the blow sent him sideways.

With one last shove, Lya surged to her knees. She scrabbled over to Iovru as Zevran darted across the packed earth to help Mhairi. She laid a hand on Iovru’s neck and he whined under his breath. Blood was already matting his brown fur and a nauseating edge of white bone poked through his skin. She tore herself away from her dog to focus on the darkspawn but Mhairi and Zevran were already finishing off the last of them.

Mhairi zeroed in on the injured dog as soon as she sheathed her sword. “We’ve got to get him to shelter. Can you keep his attention?”

She carefully scooped the injured dog up in her arms. He jerked at the sudden contact. Lya made sure to stay in his field of vision and spoke quietly as Mhairi carried him back towards the cluster of injured soldiers.

“Lieutenant! Injured hound!” She barked at the soldiers as soon as they were in range

Lya was never going to tease Alistair about Fereldan’s love of dogs ever again. The makeshift infirmary adapted to another patient without blinking an eye. A soldier with bandages swaddling half her face rushed over

“Oh, Ser Pup, what has happened to you?” She tutted as she let Iovru inspect her hand.

“Iovru, it’s alright. She’s a friend. She’s good.” Lya stroked the top of his head as they placed him in a spare space next to the other injured fighters. He licked her hand and whined under his breath as the soldier carefully set about inspecting his leg.

“We need to keep moving.” Said Lya, mainly to convince herself.

“We’ll look after him, ser.” The soldier assured her.

She turned away from her dog and started walking before she could look back.

Inside the keep’s main bailey, dead ‘spawn and dead soldiers left ichor and blood on the stone. A massive gate blocked them from travelling further into the keep. The buzz of Darkspawn clouded her head but it was the strongest beyond the portcullis.

“We need to get past that.” She ordered. Maybe she could wiggle through the metal grating but then what?

“The controls are located on the other side of that door.” Mhairi jerked her head. “We’ll need to take the outer passage around to the other side.”

“Who designed that?” Lya snapped.

“It’s intended to secure the keep from the inside,” Mhairi explained. “not for there to already be enemies inside. We need to take this passage.” She directed them up a stairwell and to the eastern wing of the castle before stepping back and letting Lya retake the point position in their little group.

The heavy scent of burning flesh and blighted bodies warned them of the darkspawn ahead before they could hear any sounds of battle. Lya led them down the cramped stone corridor at a run, expecting another group of soldiers or hopefully a surviving warden and found…a single mage.

Dead darkspawn and heavily armored humans sprawled on the ground. The only things left alive in the block of cells were the mage and two hurlocks moments away from dying fiery deaths.

The mage finished his fire spell with a flourish and turned to face them, breaking his theatric display by jumping when the last Hurlock shrieked behind him.

“Uh…I didn’t do it?” He shrugged with a friendly grin. “Don’t get me wrong I’m not broken up about them dying, to be perfectly honest. Biff there made the funniest gurgle when he went down.”

“Not too fond of Templars?” Lya nodded at the dead humans. The flaming sword emblem was just visible under the blood and ash on a few of their chestplates.

“Funnily enough; no. I don’t like being woken with a kick to the head.”

“An apostate, then.”

“Yes, if you want to give a label to ‘not wanting to live your entire life in servitude’. You may call me Anders.”

“An apostate? At Vigil’s Keep?” Mhairi gasped.

“You weren’t here when we arrived, were you?” Anders looked her up and down. “I’m sure I would have remembered a woman as … lovely as yourself. No, we were just stopping here on our way back to the tower. ‘Just a short rest’, they said. And now they’re _dead_. Such a shame.”

“Terrible, truly.” Lya deadpanned

Anders grinned. “I agree. Say, could you use some help? I mean, darkspawn swarming everywhere. I help you and we can discuss what happens later…later?”

Zevran laughed under his breath. “A familiar situation.”

“It’s amazing who you find as allies; he hasn’t even tried to kill us.” She shot back

“My lady, I would never-”

“I would welcome the help.” She interrupted his slightly panicked protest. “I’m Warden-Commander Lya Mahariel. This is Ser Mhairi, one of our recruits and Zevran, my personal masseuse.”

Anders cocked his head and seemed to legitimately lack a response.

“There’s more darkspawn to deal with.” Lya pushed forward before the mage could find his whit.

A few more darkspawn and one wild-eyed dwarf later, the portcullis was lifted. Mhairi led them through the passageways of the keep with Lya’s warden sense to direct them towards the highest concentrations of ‘spawn. As they approached the center of the keep, the greasy buzzing sense of them grew.

“More ahead, a bunch of them.” Lya warned. There were the sounds of fighting as well so possibly some Wardens had survived.

Mhairi led through the door with her shield at the ready and Zevran close behind. The small hall was swarming with the things. They were clustered around a stairwell leading to a raised section of the room. Lya saw a blade swing through the air in an arc of flying I how beyond the tangle of bodies but couldn’t see who wielded it. She loosed an arrow into the neck of a distracted Hurlock and focused on the cramped battlefield before her.

It was the work of a few minutes to clear them. With the Darkspawn gone, she could see who had been fighting. A dwarf with a Grey Warden shield and a dwarven shortsword stood at the ready. Behind her, a mage was attending to a bearded Warden slumped against the wall. Blood and ichor coated their blue uniforms and if the shake in the mage’s hands meant anything, they were exhausted.

“Warden Commander Mahariel?” The dwarf asked, her blade still at the ready.

Lya nodded. “Glad to see you. Your names?”

“Warden Constable Kader,” the dwarf answered. “Andras’s the mage and Caron’s the one who can’t duck.” A well-timed grunt punctuated her introductions. Anders slid past her and practically ran to the injured man. Kader took a half step forward, almost as if to block his path. A bright blue glow sprung up around Anders’s hands as he kneeled next to Andras and began to work on Caron’s head. Kader sheathed her sword after an awkward pause.

Lya joined them on the landing with Zevran and Mhairi beside her. “What happened here?”

“Darkspawn ambush.” Kader answered brusquely, still keeping an eye on Anders and her men. “Which should be impossible. They were organized, at least at first and something blocked our sense.”

“That’s…” Lya swallowed. Her nausea surged back to life. Darkspawn weren’t organized. Without the will of the Archedemon, they were even less mindless than animals.

But the Archedemon wasn’t gone, not really.

“Blocking your sense?” Zevran covered for her. “Is that even possible.”

“It shouldn’t be.” Andras growled from his spot on the floor.

“Don’t know of any case where it’s happened before.” Kader added. “But it happened. One moment, there wasn’t a ‘spawn for miles. The next they were swarming up from the keep. The cellars must connect to the Deep Roads. Which means that more could come and that something led them up here.”

Kader was beginning to sound very distant, like her words were coming from across a large room. There was a drop of ice low in Lya's gut. Something had controlled the darkspawn and called them up to the surface to the very spot that they were heading to. Could it really be a coincidence?

Fingers brushed over her wrist and a shoulder pressed into hers. Zevran. Kader was saying something about where she had last seen the other wardens. She forced herself to focus on the other warden’s words.

“A dozen or so more up above us.” Andras said. She had missed the exactly wording of Kader’s prompt.

“Stay with Caron.” Kader directed the elf. “I want to go hunt those last few down, see if we can find anything out about them. Can you walk?”

“I think so. As long as we don’t find any other darkspawn.” Caron answered in a thick Orlesian accent. Andras and Anders helped him to his feet, revealing his truly intimidating height and an worrying amount of blood over his head and chest. Anders had managed to close what must have been a serious headwound but with that much blood lost, the man wasn’t going to be much use anytime soon.

“There’s a triage camp in the outer bailey.” Lya said. “If you can get to there, you’ll be safe. And there might be a dwarf with explosives wandering around.”

“Dworkin’s still alive?” Caron snorted. “Of course that mad little man is.”

“Voldrik’s going to kill him himself.” Andras sighed.

Caron stood on his own well enough as Andras stooped down and picked up two curved swords from the ground at his feet. He carefully returned the two blades to the sheathes on Caron’s belt and ducked under Caron’s arm again.

“Be careful.” Kader ordered.

“Yes, ser.” Andras nodded and Caron gave a sloppy salute with his free arm. Together, they began to make their way down the stairs and back out to the courtyards.

Mhairi cleared her throat. “The stairs are this way.”

She led them down another cramped corridor with blood on the walls and floor. At the end, a dying soldier was slumped against the wall with his gut hanging out like a half-slaughtered deer.

“Rowland!” Mhairi screamed. She ran to his side.

“Mhairi?” He said. “And the Warden Constable?”

“Here, Rowland.” Kader answered solemnly. “Have you seen the seneschal?”

“Yes, he’s-” Rowland coughed and a mist of blood covered his lips. “further inside. There’s one with them, it talks. It’s magic is powerful.”

“Talking ‘spawn?” Kader repeated. “That’s- not something that should be possible

“He’s dying,” Anders interjected. You didn’t need to be a healer to see that. “Beyond healing magic and must be hallucinating. Some whiskey for the pain, maybe?”

Mhairi scowled at him. “No! We have to save him!”

“There’s something in my blood.” Rowland groaned. “It hurts.” The Taint. He must have near drank the stuff if it was setting in that fast.

“Where’s the talking ‘spawn?” Kader pressed him.

“It went that way.” Rowland managed to turn his head. “After the …seneschal.” His head drooped onto his chest plate and the smell of piss filled the air.

“I will avenge you, Rowland. I swear it.” Mhairi whispered and closed her eyes.

“We’ll kill the blighters, Mhairi.” Lya assured her. “But we need to keep pressing on.”

The knight nodded and stood. Her mouth was tight around the edges but her eyes were dry.

“Of course.” Mhairi nodded. “The stairs are just ahead.”

The rain had turned into an icy drizzle by the time they reached the highest of the ramparts. The clouds darkened the sky and the grey light did nothing to improve what they found.

A dozen darkspawn stood in a loose circle. Only two humans were left alive. One was on his knees with a sword held to his throat, the other was trying to back away from a Hurlock advancing towards him. It was taller than any she had seen before and wore a purple coif over its mail. Its gait was steadier than the usual shuffle of darkspawn. Every bit of skill she had gained fighting spawn in the last year told her that this one was different. And that was before it spoke.

“It has ended just as he foretold.” It hissed and kicked the retreating soldier off the rampart. It watched the man fall.

“Be taking this one gently.” It ordered. “We are wishing no more death than is necessary.”

“Necessary?” The man snarled. “As if your kind as ever done anything else.”

“You are thinking you know of our kind, human. It is understandable but that will soon be changed.”

“Others will come, creature. They will stop you.”

“There it is. And Varel.” Mhairi whispered. The strange darkspawn turned and laughed when it saw them.

“It seems your words be true. More than you are guessing.” He remained where he stood while the rest of the spawn shuffled and hissed, raring to charge and tear at them.

“It _is_ talking.” Anders gasped. Lya glanced at him. He looked a bit sick, like he much rather would have helped Caron back to triage.

“Capture the Grey Wardens as the Architect requires.” The Hurlcok ordered. “The others may be killed.”

Whatever this new, unnerving darkspawn was, it could fight. The rest of the darkspawn fought and died like every other one she had seen but this one thought ahead more than the seconds that it would take to reach its next victim. And it had magic. Strange magic that didn’t seem to fit in its actions. Like it learned to fight one way and was trying to add another weapon to its arsenal.

Strange and frightening or not, it was still a darkspawn and it could still die just like anything else. Kader took the final blow and punched her sword clean through its face with an enraged yell. It collapsed in its own liquids and the only sound left on the ramparts was the rain hitting the stone.

“Warden Constable Kader.” Varel hobbled across the ramparts to where the fight had taken them. “I’m glad to see you’re alive.”

“Agreed, Seneschal.” She wiped her sword with a rag from her belt and sheathed it.

“And you must be Warden Commander Mahariel.” He turned to Lya. “I’m sorry that we could not give you the welcome you deserve.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Zevran sighed. “Fighting darkspawn, mysterious circumstances, pitched battles? It’s nice to have a bit of familiarity.”

Varel, to his credit, didn’t even blink. “Then I am happy to have helped.”

“I wish I could have seen the keep under better conditions.” Lya dipped her head to the shem.

“Aye, she will survive.”

“The ‘spawn came from within the keep, Varel.” Kader grunted. “They have a way in from the Deep Roads themselves. We have to find how and put an end to it or the keep won’t survive. That must be our first priority.”

Varel nodded grimly and looked out over the lower bailey. The smoke was dying out but the grounds were still scattered with bodies. Miniature figures checked the dead, helped the wounded, and slit the throats of those beyond aid.

“Any chance of getting help from Amaranthine?” Kader asked Varel.

“It’s a day there and back on horseback. Who’s to say what could happen in that time.”

“There’s a force marching for the Keep now,” Lya spoke up. “the soldiers that left Denerim the same day as us. They were expected to arrive in two days’ time, though if the ‘spawn can do this I worry about the safety of the roads. There’s soldier and potential recruits with them. If adding more people to this can help, we’ll have them.”

“Any idea how many recruits?” Kader asked.

“At least two.” Lya answered. “Though I don’t know the specifics. Alistair was our recruiter, not me.”

The senior warden nodded. “Good, we lost too many here.”

A lightning bolt cracked across the sky followed almost immediately by a roll of thunder. Kader jumped and scowled at the sky but Anders tilted his face and closed his eyes as the rain fell on him. Below, someone screamed in pain. It was a muffled noise but still carried to their spot high above the courtyard.

The cold rain wouldn’t help anyone but Lya couldn’t help but appreciate it. Winter would melt away and spring would bring its green shoots and delicate flowers. Life in Ferelden would continue, no matter how omnipresent the Blight had seemed.

She was the first to turn away from the battlements and begin the descent.

 -

It was a fitting introduction to the castle that they would be spending the foreseeable future at; chaotic, confused, and full of dead darkspawn. And, of course, there were a thousand things for her to do. Even in the aftermath of a devastating attack, minutiae rose to the top. She met the captain of the guard, the Ander master of coin sent to the keep by the Orlesian Warden Commander, the surviving lieutenants, and the three remaining Orlesian wardens.

The general consensus was that the keep had survived but just barely. Voldrik’s explosions damaged the stone work considerably, even if they had done far more damage to the ‘spawn. Darkspawn blood was soaked into the dirt and would require pyres to burn out the Taint. The dozens of bodies would also require pyres, just as pressingly. One of the soldiers tracked the point of entry to an ancient, deep-reaching cellar that would need investigation. In all the chaos, the small jail had remained safe and a prisoner within apparently needed her immediate attention.

It all seemed to demand her care and, unlike the year she had spent gathering troops, Lya could hardly resent them for requesting her to care for it all. The sun was hiding behind the horizon, not just the clouds, when she got chance to sit and catch her breath.  The keep didn’t stop with her. The remaining able soldiers shored up defenses, cared for their dead or dying, and looked to whoever had been recently promoted for orders.

It wasn’t until Zevran asked her about her back that Lya remembered the explosion. Her shoulder immediately took the opportunity to demand her full attention. She promised him she’d find one of the healers and ordered him to find the ‘commanders quarters’ Seneschal Varel had alluded to. A rather obtuse reference to warming up sheets and he breezed off.

Anders was shivering and warming himself next to the blacksmiths forge when she found him. Or maybe he was just trembling. His face was ashy and drawn. His robes were soaked through at the shoulders and he had blood under his nails.

“Still eager to help?”

“Warden Commander!” He straightened his posture immediately then seemed to realize just how tall he was compared to her and slumped again.

“I was just clearing my head.” He explained. “I’ll return to the infirmary in a moment.”

“Have they allowed you to help? I thought sh- humans weren’t very keen on letting mages heal.”

“They may be under the impression that I’m, er, ‘on loan’, if you will, to the wardens from the circle,” Said Anders. “rather than an apostate and moments from turning into a hideous abomination because then I’d have to answer to you.”

“I do have a rather efficient past with abominations.” She grinned back at him, which was probably the wrong thing to do, depending on how recently he had escaped from the Circle.

“If the Fade is anything like the Circle, they’ve already ingrained legends about you killing abominations for light entertainment into the minds of little demons.”

“I don’t believe I met you during my first bout of ‘light entertainment’ at the Circle.”

“No, you wouldn’t have. I was in confinement when that began and escaped shortly after that. We wouldn’t have met. Speaking of escapes...”

“This is the ‘later’ you mentioned.”

“Yes. You seem like a reasonable and fair minded individual not prone to handing helpful, innocent mages over to the Templars bent on never letting them help anyone. Could you be persuaded to, perhaps, be distracted by this situation and let a harmless someone slip your mind and grasp?”

He smiled in a way that surely was charming if it hadn’t been accompanied by such flowery flattery and unmistakable fear in his eyes.

Lya sighed internally and played along. “You mean, forget to mention to the nearest Templars, currently marching with a detachment of soldiers from Denerim, the presence of a volunteer healer when they arrive in approximately two days?”

“That would be a convenient lapse in memory, Warden-Commander.” Anders kept the shiny smile on his face but something like relief softened his eyes.

“Great. Now, go inside a find a warm cot; you look like you’d fall over if someone asked you to light a lantern.”

She shooed the mage inside to the nearest dry horizontal surface and began to find her own ‘warm cot'. Varel’s directions had included the fact her new quarters were of the third storie in largest tower but the reality of climbing two flights of stairs didn’t hit until her legs we're shaking in sight of the end. A day’s worth of traveling, fighting, and commander-ing caught up with her all at once.

The third floor contained a round, central space with rooms along the sides and rain-streaked windows nestled in alcoves between them. Two of the rooms had light bleeding out from underneath the doorways. From one of them, she could voices. She paused outside the door.

“…know what that means.” Andras was saying.

“Neither do I. And I don’t like it when ‘spawn start with new shit.” Kader agreed.

“They were controlled and it spoke! Who- or what- could this Architect even be if not an Archedemon?”

“I don’t know.”

“What sort of magic could even-”

“I don’t know!” She snapped. “None of this nug shit makes sense. We don’t have half of what we need to know and this whole thing seems wrong.”

Neither spoke for a long pause. Lya was almost moved on when the dwarf spoke again.

“How’s Caron?”

“Asleep for the moment. I’m going to wake him up again in another half-hour. That apostate did good work, though. He’ll be fine. Just won’t ever get used to seeing him go down. Seeing _anyone_ go down.”

“Kristoff and Keenan’s team are still out in the field. We’re not done yet.”

“Thanks, Nika.” Andras said. “I needed this.”

“Anytime, demon-bait.” The mage snorted at the nick-name and Lya continued to the end of the hall.

Zevran was waiting for her on an-  _their enormous bed._  A fire was burning in the hearth on the inside wall, warming the room and providing light along with the candle sconces. The whole scene was warm and inviting and made her feel a hundred times grimier and more exhausted than she had before setting foot through the door.

He stood when she entered. “There’s a wash basin behind the screen. I’m assuming you’ll want to use it.”

She could see he had already washed. His hair was re-braided and his bare chest had a faint sheen to it. Their packs were laid against one of the wardrobes along the outer wall and must have been where he got his fresh breeches from.

“A wash basin in my own room. This is the height of luxury.”

She stripped off her armor and hung it on the empty rack before retreating behind the screen. Free of her clothes, the air was chilly but not cold. The water in the basin was bracing but fresh and clean. There was even a spigot for more water like the noble houses in Orzammar.

Lya wiped herself down with a clean cloth and made sure to scrub every last bit of darkspawn blood off of her skin. For a moment, she found herself wishing for one of the large tubs of heated water she had been treated to in Denerim but caught herself. Spend a year running around with shems and suddenly she was wishing for bathtubs. Next she’d want fine silks and servants to do all her work for her.

“Did you speak to the Mage” Zevran called out to her from the other side of the screen.

“Anders? Yes. He _really_ doesn’t want to go back to the Circle.”

“Your first recruit, Warden Commander?”

Maybe. He would certainly be an asset to the Wardens. His healing abilities and his resourcefulness would suit them well. Recruiting him would give him a permanent escape from the Circle that he seemed to hate so much. Then again, he hated the Circle but joining the wardens was permanent. There would be no escape for the shifty-eyed mage. And that was only if he survived the Joining.

“Perhaps.” She finally said.

“And your back?” Zevran asked.

Ah, her back. It ached from her landing after the gates were blown apart and, judging by his reaction, Zevran hadn’t forgotten about how long it had taken her to get up.

“You didn’t ask him.” He concluded when she delayed too long.

“He was exhausted when I found him.” She said.

“And you didn’t want him to find out.

She hadn’t even considered the risk of a healer finding out she was pregnant. It would make sense. A simple check-up  would have found it and then what? How would Anders have reacted? Would he tell the other wardens? Would they find it odd that a supposedly sterile warden was pregnant?

She rinsed her washcloth in the water and left it to dry next to the basin.

Zevran watched her intently as she walked towards the bed.

“Let me see.” He patted the quilt next to him.

She sat on the edge of the mattress next to him and angled her upper body so that the full of her back was exposed to him. He swept her loose hair out of the way and ran his fingers lightly down her back. He didn’t say anything.

“Is it that bad?”

“No, _mi amour_.” She shivered as he pressed his lips to her back. “It is bruising and a scrape. Forgive my overreaction. Just promise me you’ll corner the mage in the morning.” His weight left the mattress. She watched him as he walked to their packs and rummaged through them. He moved too carefully, like he was tired but didn’t want to show it.

He returned to the bed with a small jar of bruise balm. The feeling of his fingers on her back, carefully rubbing the cool, mint-scented lotion into her skin was soothing and comforting. She could have drifted off then and there but didn’t. There was still a question that needed to be answered and delaying would not make it easier.

“When the blast hit, you ran to me.” Zevran’s hand stopped. He wiped the last of the balm off on her other shoulder and screwed the cap back on the jar.

“Yes.” He finally said.

“Why? We’ve been in battle literally as long as we’ve known each other. You’ve never faltered like that before. What changed?”

He didn’t say anything. Lya turned back to face him and drew her legs up onto the bed between them. He wasn’t looking at her. He wasn’t looking anywhere precisely. She placed her hands on either side of his face and craned her neck downward to catch his eye.

“Zevran?”

He blinked and smiled back at her. “I panicked. A miserable excuse for a professional, I know, but true. I have more a stake now.”

Oh. So he had been thinking of their situation aside from jokes about morning sickness.

“Because…” She placed a hand to her belly rather than say what she thought aloud.

He laid a palm over the back of her hand and leaned forward until his forehead rested on her collarbone.

“I don’t want to lose you.” He sounded so small and scared. So unlike the cocksure assassin she was used to.

All because she had made a mistake.

Every step she took now carried her and the possible child that was in her. There was more at stake. She was his wife, his best protection from the Crows, his love, and held his chance at a child.

“You won’t. I promise.” It was hardly a promise she could guarantee. Neither of them knew what would happen next aside from that it would most likely be dangerous. Even with the Blight over, she was a Grey Warden with the weight of the order on her shoulders. Now, with the threat of this ‘Architect’ there was no way to predict what would come next.

She wrapped her arms around his back and focused on the warmth of him, the weight of his head on her chest. She loved this man and, as uncertain as her future was, she would make it with him.

In the back of her mind, she knew she had already made this decision.

“I’m going to keep it.” He pulled back and stared.

“Are you sure? Even with..?”

With the complication of Morrigan’s ritual and the uncertainty of what that meant?

She nodded. “I want this with you, Zevran. It’s not perfect but our lives will never be perfect.”

He pressed his lips to her forehead. “ _Ti amo,_ my warden. I will stay by your side.”

She leaned into the touch and pressed her palms against his chest. Zevran’s skin was warm and firm and familiar. A familiar shiver ran down her spine. Zevran’s hand ran down her ribs to her waist before gripping her hip. She wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him forward as she fell backwards onto the bed. The motions were familiar and welcome.

“My shoulder!” She remembered the balm rubbed onto her skin.

“Lya?” His weight lifted in an instant.

“I forgot about the balm. Did I get any on the covers?” She rolled onto her knees and inspected the embroidered quilt.

“No. I rubbed it in completely.” He was doing a poor job of hiding his smirk.

“Don’t laugh. This is down. It’s murder to clean.” She protested.

“Not quite cured furs and canvas tents?”

“Shush.” She pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth but he didn’t move. She pulled back and tried to puzzle out what was going on in his head by his expression. Something had killed the mood more efficiently than darkspawn wandering into camp.

“Sleep, my warden. We will be busy in the morning.” He took her hands and kissed her palms.

He left the bed to blow out the candles before sliding under the covers with her. She pressed her against his side and rested her head on his chest. The room was dark and the bed was warm. The steady sound of blood rushing through Zevran’s heart lulled her to sleep.


	4. 33 weeks: Zevran

Lya looked well and truly tired when she finally arrived in their shared room. Zevran had already inspected the room for traps, washed the grime from his hair, and bounced a few times  for the fun of it on the large feather bed.

“There’s a wash basin behind the screen.” He nodded in its direction. “I’m assuming you’ll want to use it.”

“A wash basin.” Lya smiled. “In my own room. This is the height of luxury.”

He didn’t reply. There wasn’t a good reply to that other than to laugh and any attempt he made would sound hollow. Instead, he watched as she shucked off her armor and stepped behind the divider. Water sloshed in the basin as she cleaned herself. Her movements had been tired but not stiff, though she knew how to hide her discomfort.

He listened to the sound of dripping water for a bit longer then swallowed and spoke up.

“Did you speak to the Mage?”

“Anders? Yes. He _really_ doesn’t want to go back to the Circle.”

“Your first recruit, Warden Commander?” He suggested.

She didn’t answer for a while and when she did speak there was strange timbre to it.

“Perhaps.”

“And your back?” Another long pause. He sighed. “You didn’t ask him.”

“He was exhausted when I found him.”

He didn’t doubt that but a simple examination wouldn’t require much energy. There had to be something else…

“And you didn’t want him to find out.” About her pregnancy, about the fact that something was growing inside of her. He had never thought creating life could sound so insidious until now.

Lya stepped out from behind the screen. She was completely bare. He could see the lines where her arm guard rubbed into her arm and a patch of scrapped skin along one knee. A small cut crossed the line of her jaw was already scabbed over. She moved as easily as ever.

The sight of her flying backwards and hitting the ground too hard replayed in his mind. His memory exaggerated how long she had laid motionless in the dirt. In reality, it had been barely enough time for him to process what happened and feel fear chill his innards.

“Let me see.” He beckoned her over. Lya sat next to him with her back facing him. He brushed her loose black hair out of the way and ran a hand down her spine. The skin on her shoulder blade was darkening. With the poor light and the tone of her skin, he could barely see the bruising. He rested a hand on the patch of scraped skin and forced himself to recognize it.

She was not dead, she was not dying, she was safe and so was he.

“Is it that bad?”  She asked.

“No, _mi amora_.” He pressed a kiss into her uninjured shoulder. “It is bruising and a scrape. Forgive my overreaction. Just promise me you’ll corner the mage in the morning.”

He rose and fetched a jar of balm for her back. He carefully rubbed it fully into her skin and focused on the warmth of her back as it rose and fell with each breath.

She broke the silence. “When the blast hit, you ran to me.”

“Yes.”

“Why? We’ve been in battle literally since we first met. You’ve never faltered like that before. What changed?”

Everything. He had believed her dead at it had changed everything.

Once, he had believed he could survive her death. He had seen two lovers die at his own hand before, he could handle his latest sacrificing herself. His entire life was death and more death. Zevran thought could harden his heart once again and move on. He was wrong. Something had broken in him when Rinna died and its broken fragments still cut at his heart. Ferelden with its fresh air and purpose and Lya’s love had begun to put him back together but ripping out part of him now would spell disaster. He was more fragile than he had ever been before and it terrified him.

She cupped his head with her hands and lifted his face to meet hers.

“Zevran?”

“I panicked.” It was not a lie. “A miserable excuse for a professional, I know, but true. I have more a stake now.”

“Because…” She moved her hand to her belly. He blinked. The child still seemed like an idea more than a reality. He didn’t know if she would continue down this path. The idea of Lya holding a child with blond hair suddenly came to mind, quickly followed by the idea of Lya bleeding to death in eight months’ time.

He pressed his head to her shoulder. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t. I promise.” She rubbed her hand in small circles against his back.

“I’m going to keep it.” She declared

He sat up and stared. “Are you sure? Even with..?”

She nodded. “I want this with you, Zevran. It’s not perfect but our lives will never be perfect.”

She was perfect but he doubted she would appreciate him saying that. He leaned in close again and kissed her forehead.

 “ _Ti amo,_ my warden. I will stay by your side.” He ran his hand from her shoulder to  her hip and held her there, just to feel her warmth. Her hands went from his chest to his neck and they fell backwards onto the mattress pressed close to one another.

“My shoulder!” She yelped

“Lya?” He jumped back as his heart started to race. Had he hurt her? How had he forgotten her injury so quickly? Was the lure of sex so intoxicating that he forgot how close she had come to death that day?

“I forgot about the balm.” She ran a hand over the quilt. “Did I get any on the covers?”

“No. I rubbed it in completely.” He grinned in relief.

“Don’t laugh. This is down. It’s murder to clean.”

“Not quite cured furs and canvas?”

“Shush.” She leaned in close and began to kiss him again. The warm feeling in his core that had begun to bubble up when he saw her stripped bare was gone, replaced by a cold emptiness. She pulled back when he didn’t reciprocate and looked at him inquisitively.

“Sleep, my warden. We will be busy in the morning.”

He rose to blow out the candles. When he returned, she was already under the covers and waiting for him.

Lya pressed against his side with her ear on his chest. He felt her breathing even out and her heartbeat slow until she was asleep. He lay in the darkness and listened to air rush through her lungs. How often had he done this? Staring up at the darkness while she slept beside him. The nagging thought that he could easily kill her scratched at the back of his head. He had been brushing off that bad habit for months and he wouldn’t stop now.

Like all the times before, he was swallowed by his thoughts with no other voice to listen to. That same sort of perverse relief he had felt when Lya was unconscious and dying in Denerim had return when she had fallen and lingered on the ground earlier today.

He could kill her. Not even purposefully. Joke or not, his first victim was his mother. Wouldn’t it be the most fitting of ends if his own child followed in his footsteps?

He could kill her without even trying.

She snorted softly and he pulled her close. He wanted to hold her like this for the rest of time, to never let her grow old or run the gauntlet of child birth. It was an idle, worthless thought and wouldn’t keep her safe. He would have to do that himself.

-

“Zev, wake up, love.” Lya rustled his shoulder and he jerked awake. She stood in front of him fully dressed and prepared for the day. How had he managed to sleep through all of that?

“I’m going to discuss reconstruction with the seneschal. I wanted you to know that before I left.”

“Of course, just give me a moment.” He scrambled for clean clothes and finished buckling down his armor as they descended into the chaos of the recovering keep. Even exhausted, his training showed him a thousand details about the keep. The central tower was sturdy and smooth sided but a dedicated climber could scale the sides if the guards didn’t watch the walls inside and out. It was ancient place and inevitably had grown complexities and complications in the near organic way that old buildings did. Zevran could see three distinct styles of fortifications still visible and each would offer their own weaknesses to correct. Last night’s attack had proven the keep was vulnerable, now the job was to fix that vulnerability.

They weren’t even out of the tower when the first matter of urgent business found them.

“Commander?” A fresh faced guard approached them. “Sergeant Tomlin, Ser. I’m the head jailor here. I wanted to bring a matter to your attention.”

Lya gestured for her to continue.

“We caught a thief breaking into the keep three days ago. It took Constable Kader and three guards to catch him. She said he’d make a good recruit, though I think she was joking.”

“I see. Is he still in the cells?”

“Yes, Ser. I’ll take you to him now.” Sergeant Tomlin nodded and led them into the main courtyard and then into a small, sub-level building set into the courtyard earth. It was dark and cramped but dry and not overly cool. A single guard was stationed in the jail and snapped to attention when he saw the sergeant approaching.

“Sergeant Tomlin. And the Commander?” He saluted. “Here he is. This thief was safe in here while good men died outside.”

The thief in question lifted his head to glare at them. Zevran squinted for a moment before he recognized what he saw. This was no mere thief.

“Thank you. Please find the Seneschal for me.” Lya dismissed Sergeant Tomlin and the jailer.

“Bears a resemblance to our matchmaker, no?” Zevran said under his breath next to her ear.

“That he does.”

It wasn’t hard to see Rendon Howe in the figure glaring back at him from beyond a long hooked nose. Lya plucked the ring of keys from the jailor’s desk and approached the cell. Their prisoner stood and leaned against the bars.

“If it isn’t the great Hero of Ferelden, conqueror of the Blight and vanquisher of all evil. Aren’t you supposed to be ten feet tall and shoot lightning bolts out of your eyes?”

Lya said nothing.

“I was expecting more from my father’s murderer. I am Nathaniel Howe My family owned these lands until you showed up. Do you even remember my father?”

Lya smiled without it reaching her eyes. “I remember a man who sold people into slavery to pay for a civil war after he spent a small fortune hiring a single assassin to kill me. It didn’t work.”

Oh, she remembered him alright. Zevran was willing to bet she’d never forget Howe even without his son showing up as a reminder.

“My father,” Nathaniel hissed. “served the Hero of River Dane before you killed him. He freed this nation from Orlesians. And my family still lost everything.”

“So you want revenge.”

Howe’s frown lessened. “I came here to kill you. To lay a trap but- I realized I just want to recover something of my family. It’s all I have left.”

“Ah, yes, the bereaved son of a dead enemy, classic figure.” Zevran interjected. “I’m sure if we hand him a few keepsakes to remember what he has lost he’ll just walk away happy as a mabari in mud- that is the expression, no? How about a family sword?”

“Look,” Howe said. “I know you’re heroes. You fought a war and you won, and to the victors go the spoils, right? Whatever my father did, whoever he was, it shouldn’t mark his whole family. I wasn’t even in Ferelden when my father died. I was squiring on the other side of the waking sea. The Howes are pariahs now, those of us left. It’s all thanks to you. And now you get to decided my fate. Ironic, isn’t it?”

“In a vague sense of the word.” Zevran drawled. “It would be more ironic if you ended up locked in one of your father’s torture chambers for the rest of your life.” Nathaniel scowled but shame was in his eyes, with all the resentment.

“Or, you could work to redeem the name Howe.” Lya proposed.

“You’re right,” Howe snorted. “I should throw myself into the service of Queen Anora immediately. We’d make quite a pair, Mac Tir and Howe, because she would accept me and the bannorn would have no objections to that. The darkspawn are a menace. If it weren’t for the Blight, maybe my father would never have…done what he did. But it’s not like I can fix that. He still did what he did and there’s the Grey Wardens here in my home.” If Zevran could weaponize the venom in the boy’s voice, he’d never need to worry about failed assassination attempts again.

“I hear it took quite some force to take you down.” Lya noted.

“I am not without  my skills.” Howe admitted. “My time abroad wasn’t spent chasing skirts and drinking wine. Not entirely.”

“Such as?” Lya asked innocently enough. Zevran desperately hoped she wasn’t thinking what he thought she was thinking.

Howe shrugged. “Hunting, scouting, poisons, archery. Why? What do you care?”

“Because I want to offer you a choice.”

Of course. Void take her, of course she was offering a would-be assassin a chance.

“Which is?”

“Join the Wardens.”

“What? No! I’d rather die.”

“Still a possibility.” Lya shrugged. “Would it really be so terrible?”

“Hard to say. You like having people beneath you want you dead?”

“Is that irony, Zev?”

“Still not quite.”

The door swung open behind the,. The two guards, Seneschal Varel, and Warden Caron entered.  Caron leaned heavily on a cane and bandages hid a large portion of his face but he was walking.

“Commander, I’m glad to see you here.” Varel said. “You’ve met out intruder.”

“Yes. Tell me, was Constable Kader serious about recruiting him?”

“Absolutely.” Caron confirmed. “I was one of the men who took him down. The man knows how to move.”

Howe scoffed. “That’s because they don’t know who I am.”

“Who you were can be left behind if you join the Wardens.” Said Lya.

“And he is?” Varel asked.

“Nathaniel Howe.” The noble sneered. “I came here for revenge. Still want me?”

“Howe. Isn’t that-”

“The name of the bastard who betrayed his men and nearly destroyed his nation.” Varel interrupted Caron, he almost sounded like he was having an emotional response. “The right hand man of the Teryn who betrayed the order and left my brother to be killed at Ostagar.”

“Arl Rendon is dead.” Lya reminded them.

“And if he had his way, so would you, Lya.” Zevran added. “We can’t be sure he won’t try again. We can’t trust him.”

“We can’t trust him with freedom and I’d rather not consign a man to death or imprisonment for a crime he didn’t even truly attempt.”

“Kader wanted to conscript him anyway…” Caron trailed off.

“Tell me, Howe.” Lya said. “What do you choose; redemption, execution, or imprisonment?”

Zevran couldn’t say he didn’t believe it because he absolutely could but he didn’t want to.

“Fine.” Howe snapped. “I’ll join your order. My father’s memory has already been tarnished enough.”

Lya picked through the keys to find the correct one and released another Howe into the world. Zevran sat with his hand on his belt knife and watched as the slaver’s son exited the cell but he made no move to attack. Lya held out her hand. Howe looked at it like a rotted pig’s hoof but he shook it.

“Come with me, boy.” Varel ordered. “We’ll getting you working with Captain Garevel. I believe you remember him.”

Lya watched the would-be murderer leave with guards flanking him. The door closed and she slumped slightly.

“Did I make a mistake, Zev?” She asked.

“You took a risk.” He conceded. “I’m not sure it’s what I would have done but you’re the Commander.”

“Don’t do that, not you.” She took his hand. “I’m not _your_ commander. Don’t you dare hold back on me. If I can’t get your perspective, who’s can I get?”

“We won’t that until something happens.”

Lya sighed. “You’re right..” She rubbed her forehead and squeezed his hand. They exited into the weak winter morning light.

-

Vigil’s Keep was picking itself up from the attack. Smoldering piles of darkspawn corpses were burning and filling the air with the stench of Blight and burning flesh. A pair of Dwarven brothers were evaluating the damaged walls. The mage Anders was working with a Chantry mother and a few soldiers to save as many injured as he could. Woolsey, the treasurer, was running around tearing out her hair and worrying about finances. It all required Lya’s attention. He tried to stick to her side as much as they could but as the sun was setting (it did that so early in the Fereldan winter) they had to separate.

Kader, Lya, and Andras were going to investigate the suspected darkspawn entrance through the cellars. They were taking Nathaniel Howe to introduce him to darkspawn and Lya didn’t want to risk him coming in any more contact with potential Taint than she needed to.

“We won’t be gone for long.” She said.

“Help the Glavonak brother evaluate the walls while I’m gone.” She said.

“We’ll find if the cellars connect to the Deep Roads and be right back.” She said

They were not ‘right back’.

They were gone for six hours and came back covered in darkspawn blood and bits of corpse. Lya seemed happy enough and unworried but Howe looked like he was regretting every choice in his life. Zevran rather felt like Mistress Woolsey had the right idea.

“You seem upset.” Lya noted as they prepared for bed that night.

“Just- worried.” He decided that was the best word.

“Worried?”

“It’s not that I don’t trust your abilities…”

Lya’s face fell. “You think I made the wrong decision with Howe.”

“No, that’s not it.” Zevran assured her. She slid into the bed next to him and he held her hand tightly. “I will always worry when I am not the one watching your back. The little adventure to the cellars scared me a bit.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” He assured her.

“I know.” She settled her head on his shoulder. “The good news is that we found the Deep Roads entrance the darkspawn used. The Glavonak brothers will be able to seal it off just fine.”

“That’s good to hear.” He kissed thee top of his head and told himself to stop worrying.

They sat in the darkness and warmth for a while, long enough for him to think that Lya had fallen asleep.

“Zev?

“Hmm?”

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Do what _, mi amora_?” He asked.

“Be the Commander of the Grey. I’m a hunter, not a Keeper or a Hahren. I don’t know how to lead an entire keep of shemlen and protect the whole of Fereldan. Kader grew up as a warrior in Kal’Hirol and has lead Wardens for years. She is the one who should be the commander, not me. I made a decision that could kill Nathaniel Howe today and there was no one make sure I was right.”

“ _Fingir hasta que lo hacen, amora_.”

“What does that mean?”

“ ‘Pretend you have it until you have’, my love.” Zevran translated. “I’ve seen you lead us through problems scarier than a single castle. You’ve already commanded every Warden in Fereldan for months-”

“When ‘every’ meant me and Alistair.”

“Irrelevant.” He waved his hand. “You’ve saved Fereldan once, you can do it again. You don’t have to see the entire keep at once. Why do you think you have the Seneschal and Captain Garavel and the treasurer? And Kader already looks to you for guidance. She can see the leader she wants to see, and the fact that you are a leader helps. Trust in those under you. There’s a reason every organization is built like a pyramid. Build your order, people like Howe will see you and trust you. Just like Alistair. And Leliana and Wynne and Sten and-”

“Shush, you. Now you’re just flattering me.”

“There’s a lot to flatter.”

She laughed an fell silent again before whispering, “Thank you, Zevran.”

“Anytime, Lya. The Vigil need its commander and I’m here for her when that load grows heavy.”

She kissed his cheek and settled down again.

That night, sleep came far easier. The next morning, he could see the change. Faking it or not, the Vigil saw its Commander lived outside of her native element of battle.

-

He found her on the ramparts as the sun was setting. From the courtyard below she looked very dramatic and inspiring with the watery orange light highlighting her features. But maybe that was just him. The rain clouds covering the keep hadn’t quite obscured the sunset but they threatened rain once again.

“Thinking some interesting things, Warden Commander?” He sidled up to her.

“Thinking about Tamlen.”

“Ah, I see.” He really needed to find the words to speak about her dead foster-brother.

“Tomorrow, the other recruits from Denerim should be arriving.” Lya continued. “They’ll have to go through the Joining. I’ll be the one to put them through it.”

“And it reminds you of Tamlen.”

“It reminds me that I was lucky to live.” Said Lya. “I think about the ‘what ifs’ a lot. What if Tamlen had gone through the Joining as well? What if I wasn’t the only one to survive my Joining at Ostagar. They’re useless but I can’t stop myself from coming back to them. What if the recruits arriving tomorrow die?”

“I can’t help you clear your conscience in this, Amora, I am sorry.”

Lya grinned wryly. “I wouldn’t expect you to, Zev. This is the Commander’s weight to bear.”

Again, Zevran wished he had the words to help her. Lya squinted over the fields to the south.

“Do you see that?” A dust cloud was rising over the fields to the south. Something reflected the dying light.

“Is it the deployment from Denerim?” Zevran asked.

“Elgarnan’enaste!” Lya swore and took off at a run over the wall. “Where’s Anders!” She shouted over her shoulder.

The mage? She had mentioned helping him escape the Templars and if the detachment from Denerim saw him now…Zevran followed, doing his best to gain ground as she hurtled down the stairs and flew towards the infirmary.

“The mage! Where is he.” She demanded. Zevran arrived a second later and managed to catch the alarmed Sister’s reply.

“He left a bit ago, Commander. Said he had business elsewhere. Did the mage…do something, Ser?”

Iovru had perked up his head as soon as they entered. Zevran was still getting used to a dog being allotted a cot in the infirmary. Lya approached the mabari and rubbed his ears as his stubby tail wiggled.

“Hey, little bear, how you feeling? You up to one little hunt?”

Zevran doubted that Iovru, being a dog, would understand the question but the dog stood unsteadily and balanced on three legs with his injured hind leg held close to his body.

“Good dog.” Lya patted his head. “Now, Anders? Do you remember him.”

Iovru barked and clumsily hopped off the low cot. He slowly, delicately inspected the room with his nose to the ground then snorted and hop-trotted out of the infirmary. Perhaps they looked a bit silly following a three legged dog around the courtyard but Iovru walked with such purpose and this _was_ Ferelden, after all. He led them to the stables and into one of the empty stalls. He snorted a few more times then whined.

“He took a horse, did he?” Lya rubbed Iovru’s ears. “You’ve done such a good job, buddy.” Iovru wagged his tail and leaned into her touch. Maker, Zevran hoped that wasn’t what he looked like when she touched him. A helpful stable hand confirmed that a man of Anders description had took a horse for ‘business for the Commander’.

“Do you want to go after him?” Zevran asked. “He did steal a horse.”

“No,” Lya sighed. “I said I’d let him escape and we’re hardly equipped to hunt down a mage who doesn’t want to be found. We better prepare to welcome the queen.”

When Queen Anora and her guards arrived, the Commander, Seneschal and Captain of the guard stood at attention  in the courtyard to welcome her. Zevran stood at Lya’s shoulder, as a faithful bodyguard should. The Wardens- all five of them, including the recruits- filled out the last of their number. Zevran doubted that it made the scene seem any better.

“Commander!” She greeted Lya as she dismounted from her horse.

“Your Highness,” Lya bowed her head but did not kneel. “We were expecting you tomorrow.”

“Your messenger found us on the road and we pressed ahead. I am sorry that we were not able to be of assistance.” Anora surveyed the recovering castle. It had improved noticeably since the attack. The piles of burning darkspawn corpses were nearly gone and the blood was mostly cleared away with burning sawdust to clean it of the Taint. The gaping hole in the gates and the lack of people were the easiest signs to notices.

“I had intended to provide the Wardens a formal welcome to Vigil’s Keep.” Anora continue. “This is unexpected, to say the least. What is the situation?”

“The darkspawn have cleared out, your majesty.” Kader answered. “The majority of the forces we marched with from Jader are dead or unaccounted for.”

“Unaccounted for?” Anora frowned. “As in taken? The darkspawn don’t keep prisoners.”

“No,” Kader explained. “We had two squadrons active in the countryside when the attack came. I am hoping that Constables Keenan and Kristoff are still alive. The darkspawn in these parts have been acting damn unusual.”

“Maker willing.” Anora nodded. “I am glad to see that you are still alive, Commander.”

“I am well.” Lya confirmed. “This complicates the situation, however.”

“As if we needed more to worry about.” The queen sighed. “You have quite a task ahead of you. I will offer what aid I can but the rest of the country needs my attention. You will be mostly on your own in this endeavor.”

“And what am I? Chopped nug liver?” A familiar gruff voice bellowed. Oghren practically fell off his pony and joined the grouped wardens.

“That would explain the smell, my red-faced friend.” Zevran made a show of pinching his nose as the dwarf drew closer.

“Still got your sense of humor, pretty boy?” He grumbled “Fine. Glad to see you made it out alive. You need more wardens, here I am.”

“The offer of commission in my army still stands, Ser dwarf.” Anora politely reminded him. “We can always use more experienced warriors like yourself.”

“Ha! Experienced killing blighters!” Oghren guffawed. “And that’s what I’ll get here, right?”

Lya smiled broadly. “I’d be doing a poor job if you didn’t.”

As the various newly arrived soldiers filed into the courtyard, one of the templars approached Lya.

“Commander, Knight Captain Rylock at your service.” She introduced herself. “The keep is not in the state we were expecting but may we ask an imposition? We caught a criminal shortly before arriving. Do you have quarters to house an apostate?”

“An apostate?” Lya frowned. She peered behind the templar at the ranks of horses and foot soldiers behind them.

“She means me, commander.” Anders shouted from a few ranks back. Two Templars frog marched him to the front of the column.

“He is an experience escapee,” Rylock continued. “we need a cell that can contain a dangerous criminal-”

“Dangerous criminal? That is one of my recruits.” Lya stepped into the Templars space. “Release him at once!”

Even with a head of height difference and heavy plate separating them, the Templar drew back a step.

“Commander, this man is suspected in-”

“He is a recruit of the Grey Wardens.” Lya interrupted. “You had no right restraining him like this.”

Rylock looked to Anora for support. The queen smiled serenely and nodded towards Anders. The Templar’s face darkened and she barked out orders to release the mage.

“My thanks, Commander,” Anders smirked like a cat in cream and strutted back to the rest of the wardens. “I did say that I was on business for you but these-”

“We will speak after your Joining, Anders.” Lya cut him off. Anders’ smug expression drained away with most of the blood in his face. Overhead, the rain clouds began to drizzle.

“We will have more to discuss soon, Commander.” Anora said. “But we have been marching hard, are there quarters ready for us?”

The seneschal took over and began to direct the newly arrived forced to different quarters. Lya supervised and took care of the Wardens. Zevran couldn’t help but smile. Not because she had gotten away with stealing a mage out from under the Templars’s noses, though he would treasure the look of frustrated indignation on Knight Captain Rylock’s face. Rather, he could see Lya stepping into the shoes of the Commander, just as she had stepped into the shoes of the politician and battlefield commander and ambassador. She would do well enough.


End file.
